The 56th Annual Hunger Games!
by The Cynical Skeptic
Summary: An exhilarating narrative based on the epic Hunger Games Trilogy filled with action, drama, weaponry, arrogance, amongst other enticing aspects. I hope you have fun reading my account of the 56th Hunger Games won by ...  READ TO FIND OUT!
1. District 1  Selene Luna's Reaping

Selene Luna

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><p>Attempting to wake me up, throwing various pillows at my face and chucking buckets of cold water, my brothers seem perplexed by how deeply I can sleep on a day of the Reapings, while in reality, I just lay in my bed giggling quietly to myself at how stupid my brothers can truly be. When they least expect it, I turn around and shriek in the most high-pitched voice I can attain. They both run out with tears streaming down their faces. My laugh echoes throughout our home, which is a three story Victorian house.<p>

I put on my favorite, semi-showing dress that makes me look like a complete prostitute, but I'm fine with that. I am not fine with it because guys think I am easy to get, which I am not by any standards, unless you count having lost my virginity at the age of eleven – note my bit of sarcasm. The real reason of me being okay with the dress is that I know that to win the Capitol's people's adoration and, most importantly, their money, I am going to have to use my beauty to my advantage. It'll be easy to get sponsors to line up by the street-full with just a little glimpse of my smile, that I will exhibit during the Reapings today after I volunteer. Once I get to the Capitol, and it's time for the interviews on Caesar Flickman's show, I am going to overwhelm every single individual, specifically males but also a few women, with my natural beauty and shower the audience with kisses, making them pretty much yearn for even the slightest chance of being allowed to sponsor me. Piece of cake.

My family and I arrive at the Reapings, and we endure all the dull crap that the escort, Tulip Yong, and the mayor say. Finally, I hear the name of a girl announced, "Tiffany Lobel." Many girls volunteer at once, but the funny thing is, in our district, there's no such thing as volunteering easily. Everyone who wants to volunteer says "I volunteer" but then must fight another competitor until one of them says "I surrender". It's a tournament to see who's our next tribute. It continues until there is one person left as the winner of the tournament. Simple really. I have no friends, so I don't hold back with the fighting. My entire life so far has been devoted to fighting, hence, not many people wish to be friends with a killing machine.

No matter. I'll win the Games, come home, live in the victor's house, which I might say is the same size as my house already, because my family is one of the wealthiest in the district, and then boast to everyone in District 1 that I am the best fighter around. Maybe even boast a bit outside of my own district. The victory tour is perfect for gloating because there'll be the families of the dead losers weeping, so it'll show to everyone that I am a heartless assassin. Trust me, this is not new information to me.

I win the tournament with ease, announce my name into the microphone for all of District 1 to hear, "Selene Luna," and I sit on the chair located on the left side of the stage, awaiting the selection of the boy tribute, who will probably be my ally traditionally speaking, but I don't need allies. I'll slit his throat like a pig if I want to. I don't care. I'm coming home, and that's all there is to it.


	2. District 1 Helios Sol's Reaping

Helios Sol

Cautiously climbing down the tree, I grin at the scrapes my hands' collected on their way down. I dawdle back home, every now and then poking a beehive with a stick and infuriating the little creatures, but always outsmarting them by, as funny as it may sound, climbing trees that tower above the rest of the unimpressive toothpicks that the stupid bees swarm around continuously for who knows how long. I certainly don't, as I ditched the idiots by leaping from tall tree to tall tree, always avoiding the precarious branches that surround the trees and jumping on to those that seem more secure.

I arrive home to a medley of screams of horror and distress. First, the horror because my parents see my hands and yell at me for being so irresponsible with the tree climbing, and so forth. I actually stop listening after the first two words, which were, "Stop climbing … ," and I let myself enter a state of solitude and freedom from all this scolding. I keep my eyes open just for them to think that I am listening.

After about five minutes, my parents finally stop as my brother tells them that we have five minutes to get to the Reapings. They tell me to run to my room and put on a decent shirt. I obey their orders, not because they said it, but because I truly need to put on a decent shirt. I have been wearing this one for the past two weeks.

My parents have already left the house to go to the square. I sprint after them, sporting a new, somewhat-clean shirt. I arrive there and think to myself _Next time I enrage the bees, it won't be because I poked the hive with a stick. No. It's going to be because I set it on fire! Yes! Brilliant!_ I can already smell the fumes coming from the burning soon-to-be-destroyed beehive_. _I am finally able to induce myself into paying attention when the boy tribute's name is called out, "Helios Sol."

My mouth contorts into a sinister grin, and I walk up to the stage. Sure, I wasn't expecting to be called up yet, but it's fine. Might as well get it done with already. Many guys attempt to volunteer, but I reject all offers by affirmatively declaring in the microphone, "I, Helios Sol, am District One's tribute." The crowd doesn't break into applause nor do they begin to cry. They actually all merely stand there like someone has told them the worst possible thing that could happen to them. All their jaws have dropped. I am at first confused, but then I turn around to notice that Selene is laughing, which is a strange response to this announcement. Nonetheless, I take my seat next to her and actually start laughing with her. I know why she's laughing now, well I guess at least. I assume it's because for the first time in Hunger Game's history, not one, but two lunatics are going into the same arena from the same district. There's only one possible thing that could happen. Carnage. Unadulterated carnage.


	3. District 2 Tigris Peuhestra's Reaping

Tigris Peuhestra

Laughter rings throughout the house, as my friends and I sing along to Justinian Beeder's newest song, "Infant". My friends and I love him so much, but since we live in District 2 and not in the Capitol, he doesn't know, yet. I mean, I'm going to volunteer for the Games, win, and then go on to live happily ever after with Justinian. Who can resist a VICTOR as their wife? I know I couldn't. I've grown up watching and idolizing all the past victors, mostly coming from Districts 1, 2, and 4 of course. One time, there was this really muscular guy from District 8 about four years ago. Too bad he died.

It's finally time to go to the district square for the Reapings. My friends, Nile and Amazon, and I stroll to the square, still hymning our idol's song. We also talk about our plans for the Games. How Amazon is going to volunteer next year and Nile the year after that. We stumble across Amazon's brother, Orinoco, and he accompanies us to the square, where we find that the stage has been set up in its usual location. Our mayor has already recapped Panem's history, and our district's escort, Lemon Lime, has read her speech already. Apparently we missed the opening process. She proceeds to the actual Reapings now. She selects a slip of paper and announces the name on it to be, "Amazon Zabril". Amazon doesn't move an inch and disinterestedly checks the condition of her latest coat of nail polish, while twenty or so girls sprint to the stage, each person shouting, "I volunteer!" I'm one of these girls of course.

In District 2, it's a little different from District 1's version of the tournament. You see, in District 1, they're more civil with the rules. To be candid, they actually have rules We all just fight until one person is left standing, and that person is chosen as the tribute. If you fall once, even if you merely tripped, you're eliminated from the competition, and when I say left standing, I mean the others have been knocked out. They're not dead. Usually.

The brawl lasts about ten minutes, and finally ends with me powerfully kicking the other remaining girl in the neck, and she collapses. Knocked-out. I think. I'm not sure actually. I walk up the steps to the stage and announce my name. "Tigris Peuhestra." Complicated. I know. The last thing I see of the girl is blood streaming down her supposedly unconscious face. I've had years of practice in combat ranging from martial arts to diverse African war techniques. Yeah, I'm ready for the Games.


	4. District 2 Julius Erasac's Reaping

Julius Erasac

Concealed in the woods adjacent to my house, taking in a breath of somewhat polluted air, I slowly sit down on a log with my favorite mace clutched in my hands. My hands, disproportionally smaller than the rest of my body nevertheless skilled with almost any type of warfare item conceivable, lower the mace onto the same log as the one I am sitting on. As my hands are already lowered and close to the grass, I snatch a few stones off the floor, and then I throw them at targeted locations amongst the trees. I hit every single one of the targets perfectly. Well more or less as I never aimed at specific locations and arbitrarily threw the rocks.

I saunter home, peering over my shoulder every now and then to look at the girls I will have drooling over me after I win the Games. At the Reapings, it's expected that almost every guy is going to volunteer, but people have been expecting me to volunteer for a while now. I just never really had the chance. Five years ago, my oldest brother, Aleron, won the Hunger Games and brought fame to our family. There was never really a reason to volunteer, but for a while now, I have been ridiculed for being the "weakling" in my family. I have a younger sister, Enobaria, but she is a savage in her own right. She bites everything she can sink her teeth into, including human flesh if possible. My entire district is expecting her to volunteer in six years or so when she is eligible, so I better volunteer now or never. I'm eighteen. It's my last shot at the stardom I rightfully deserve.

I open the door carefully not to disturb my sister's television program that has these glitter-covered freaks. She loves Dusk. God, what is wrong with her other than her knack of biting people? I walk down the hall, enter my room, grab a random shirt from my closet, and put it on. I am usually selective about the clothing I wear, but I don't feel like dressing up for this. I have no idea what is contributing to my capricious behavior today. First, not aiming at any targets with the stones in the woods. Second, putting on a random shirt.

My family and I walk to the public square, awaiting Lemon Lime, our district's escort with the stupidest name on the planet, to walk onto the stage and do the usual thing that she loves saying, probably because my district wins often. A brief history of the origin of the Hunger Games, the history of our past victors, and everything else that brings the Capitol or my district pride. The crowd cheers with its usual zeal, and finally, Lemon reaches into the girl tributes' ball and announces the girl's name, "Amazon Zabril." A bunch of girls volunteer, and then the brawl occurs, and finally, a tall girl walks up to the stage and announces her name into the microphone. "Tigris Peuhestra". I know her I think. Yeah, she's that fourteen year old that always acts like a brat and boasts about her nonexistent skills, but she's nice.

During my period of thinking, Lemon announces the name, "Julius Erasac." Cool. I swagger my way up to the stage, dodging the free-for-all that has begun in such little time. After walking up the steps, I announce my name in the microphone, "Julius Erasac." At that exact moment, they had found a winner of the brawl to volunteer as tribute. He looks at me with piercing eyes, and I begin to laugh. Laughing in his face, savoring the taste of malice radiating from his eyes, I wave him good-bye, and I turn around to meet the eyes of Tigris. We both know that we have just created a temporary alliance. I sit in my seat, while Lemon Lime gives a speech that I don't even know how long it lasts, because I drift off a bit, envisioning different methods of killing the other tributes. After envisioning their fates, I begin to visualize what I would do with the earnings from the Games. I would buy myself a car to run over the whole district with. A car that would show them that I am not a weakling.


	5. District 3 Estelle Aurora's Reaping

Estelle Aurora

Baking a fresh batch of sugar cookies for my two younger, twin sisters, I feel apprehensive about the possibility of them being reaped. I mean, they're only twelve years old, barely eligible for the games. They turned twelve a week ago. Just my luck right?

The cookies are finally ready for consumption, and I bring it over to the table on an ornate tray, that depicts a scene of a flock of birds melodically chirping and flying into a field of trees. My mother gave me this tray the day she died. I remember that day perfectly, but I can't afford to focus on the sorrow in my life right now if I want to get through this day. Everyone's already so morose about the games, especially my two younger sisters.

They refuse to eat the cookies, however, when I turn away to go clean the baking tray, I can see them each stealing a few cookies from the tray and either eating them or storing the leftovers in their pockets for future consumption. The little rascals can never fool me. I have the eyes of a hawk ever since our mother died. I have been taking care of the family pretty much, because my father is always out working, developing new automobiles for the Capitol's people to use.

I glance at the clock and realize that we have to go to the square. Cleaning up the table and storing the remaining cookies, I tell my sisters to get ready to go. I zip their coats and put their earmuffs on them. I am still in shock that they can go into the games. These innocents little girls.

We arrive at the square in about two minutes, because my family lives in the building right across from the square. We wait in this crowd of anxiety, and finally, the escort, Ty Tera, makes his usual speech that no one listens to, except for me. I think all of us would rather be sitting in our homes or going to school or working. Anything but this truthfully.

Ty walks over the girl's reaping ball and picks a slip of paper from out of the ball. Please don't be my sisters. Please don't be Serenity. Please don't be Tranquility. I am so engrossed in my thoughts of despair and paralyzed by dread, that I don't even identify the name called. "Estelle Aurora".

It takes me a moment to understand what has happened. It's me. I've been desperately praying for my sisters' safety, that I was chosen instead. As I walk up to the stage, my heart skips a few beats. I imagine the birds from the intricate tray chirping in my ears. I feel like I'm going to faint. The only thought that keeps me from breaking down is knowing that with my life being taken, another girl can live one more year.


	6. District 3 Zephyr Onyx's Reaping

**THIS POV DOES HAVE SOME PROFANITY, SO VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED. SINCE I AM ALREADY TALKING AS THE WRITER, I WOULD LIKE TO THANK ALL OF MY READERS AND PLEASE REVIEW! I WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS WANT ME TO WRITE! THANKS **

Zephyr Onyx

Bolting through the woods, rustling the fallen leaves that crumble in my path, I try to locate my knives hidden inside of my coat. As I finally locate one, Trevor, by far the fattest of the boys, tries to jump me. I dodge him with ease and continue down my path with my sights set on the orphanage. The only sanctuary I have. The problem is one of Trevor's friends, John, tackles me and begins to kick me. Everywhere. Soon, all of the other guys in their gang join in. I am in quite a lot of pain, but I hold my ground. I try to reach a mental state of control, remembering that if I kill one more guy, I will be removed from the orphanage and sent to live on the streets.

After enduring ten minutes of this torture, I can't take it anymore. I snap. I take one of my knives out and yell, "If you guys don't leave me alone, I will kill you all. No remorse. No tears. Just blood." They all laugh at my threat, but their demeanors and their eyes reveal their true emotions. They're scared. Frightened by my abilities with my knives. They know if they don't stop, I will kill them. Even if they can out-run me, I can throw my knives at them. That's my specialty, and I've done it countless numbers of times. I've even developed a connection with my knives to the point where I talk to them more than I converse with other humans.

Their laughter stops, and they all look at each other, attempting to figure out what to do next. To continue. To stop. I can tell they are really contemplating this decision, as they should. I mean, this could be life or death. For them of course. Trevor finally speaks up, "Okay dork, we'll stop for now." With that remark made, his group and him trudge along the path to the square for the Reapings. I'm so infuriated, as I always am, but I am also in a joking mood as I find their fright to be comical. Just for the fun of it, I throw a knife in Trevor's direction. It skims across his head, brushing against his hair and fixes into the bark of a tree a few yards in front of him. Trevor turns around in a mix of rage and fear. I respond with a shrug.

Once the gang is gone, I retrieve my knife and walk over to the square where the Reapings have already begun. I only have enough time to put my knives away in the orphanage, except for my special knife, when the escort, Ty Tera, announces, "Estelle Aurora," to be the girl tribute. I know that girl. She's too nice, even verging on irritating.

Ty Tera then proceeds to the boy's reaping ball. I pray for one of the names to be of one of the guys from the gang, specifically Trevor. "Zephyr Onyx," the escort announces. My selection is met by a sea of laughter. I despise these people. Could I have gotten a worse district? I finally reach the stage and grab the microphone. Usually, tributes don't say anything unless they are volunteering or just saying their name, however, what I do is unexpected and, I think, condemnable. I grab the microphone from Ty's almost plastic hand and say in a firm voice, "I am Zephyr Onyx and f*ck you all." My remark is met with no reaction. Good. Even though I'm at death's doors, I finally got these a******* to shut up.


	7. District 4 Nadia Luv's Reaping

Nadia Luv

Cleaning up my sister's vomit from last night, I try to keep my sister calm. She's worried about the games. She's twelve. I remind her that we live in District 4, a volunteer-filled district, and there is no way she would ever be able to get into the games this way. It calms her nerve's a bit, but I have to give her a few anxiety pills. You see, I take care of her. I cook. I clean. I nurture her.

Our parents died when she was born. Our mother died during childbirth, and our father remarried soon after. Two years later, he died, and our stepmother had full control of us. She despised Sara and me ever since the first day we met, so she said to me, "You're on your own kid."

"With pleasure." I responded. The one time I actually spoke to her. I don't speak often. I find that behavior is a better indicator of personality than words. The cliché expression "actions speak louder than words" fits my life's mantra. My teachers always used to complain that I never answered the questions. I only responded once in the fourth grade. The question was rhetorical actually, and the teacher was trying to insult my reticence. She had asked if it was appropriate for me not to ever respond, and I said yes. Trouble in fourth grade was imminent since that moment.

I snap back into reality, and walk my sister to the square, holding her hand every step of the way. I can feel her hand trembling in mine. She's scared, no doubt. Even though I know it's preposterous the idea that no one would volunteer for her even if she were chosen, I still pray for her safety. Not only is she only twelve but also blind. She would have a huge disadvantage if she ever entered the Games. I would never let that happen. Never.

I remind myself of that when our district's escort, Lola Wa, announces Sara's name.

I was so distracted by my praying that I didn't even notice that the Reapings had begun, and that my sister had begun to walk up to the stage, escorted by peace-keepers. She is crying and regurgitating the breakfast I had fed her. No one volunteers. I am aghast by this lack of morality in my district, but then I realize all the eyes are turned towards me. They expect me to volunteer, and they're right. I'm a perfect candidate for being the tribute. I'm fit, eighteen, tall, skilled, and fast. My district is allowing me this chance to gain support from the Capitol's people by using sympathy for my situation. Remind me to thank my district later.

For the first time in my life, I shout. "I volunteer as tribute!" The peacekeepers seem relieved that they don't have to drag my sister to her death anymore, and they escort my sister back to her spot. My sister seems sad from where I can see her. I'm all that she has. She's all that I have, and I'm going to win it for her.


	8. District 4 Ajax Rogers's Reaping

Ajax Rogers

Pebbles dance across the stream of water, finally landing on the riverbank on the other side. After five minutes of this indulgence, I raise my head and grab my trident. I throw it at a doe and her fawn. It impales both of them, and blood begins to spill out of their nearly dead bodies. A grin spreads on my face, and laughter rings in the forest. Oh, how I love the smell of blood.

I grab their carcasses and station them on two separate trees. I begin my target practice once again by first stabbing the mother in diverse locations, and finally ending with a piercing blow to the eyes. I move onto the fawn, but instead of stabbing it with the trident, I take many steps backwards and hurl the trident at its neck. The trident meets its target with perfect accuracy. I take a few steps forward and examine my work. Nice. I will definitively win the games after I volunteer.

I trudge home and meet my brothers waiting at the door. My parents are probably already at the square with my younger sister, Quinn. I grab my coat quickly, and I walk with my two older brothers to the square. I hear insult after insult trying to disparage my level of intelligence. I don't make any retorts, as I know they're right. I have always been on the idiotic side. I was held back four times. I'm still in seventh grade, and I'm eighteen.

We arrive at the square to find that the Reapings have already begun. The female tribute, a crying little girl, is being escorted to the stage by Peacekeepers, when a girl's voice breaks the sound of agony. "I volunteer as tribute!" The girl runs up to the stage, and the little girl is escorted back. A general feeling of relief permeates throughout the square. Finally, our escort, Lola Wa, draws the slip of paper from out of the boy's reaping ball. "Tyler Walters".

Tons of hands are lifted into the air as volunteers for tribute are in abundance, however, in District 4, we have a set of guidelines to adhere to. First, the oldest volunteers have priority for tribute selection, meaning everyone under eighteen has no chance. I am still in the pool of potential volunteers as I am eighteen. There are only four of us. Then, what we do is take votes. Everyone in the district writes the name on a slip of paper of the person they vote for as tribute. Simple and civilized but it takes a long time.

After the hour long voting process, I am declared to be the male tribute of District 4. I knew it. Everyone knows I have been training forever. I am an expert with tridents. The only difference is, instead of killing animals, I am going to have to kill humans. I've always wanted to try killing another human, just to see what it's like. This'll be fun.


	9. District 5 Medea Azora's Reaping

Medea Azora

Comforting my brother with my words of what he calls wisdom and what I call reality, I think of how the Reapings are going to affect my family. I mean, will it affect my family? There's so much uncertainty when it comes to the games, that all you can do is expect the worse. My twelve-year-old brother is one of these pessimists.

I've been trying to solace him for the past two or three hours. Nothing exactly is working. Whenever he brings up the idea of her being reaped, I say that I would volunteer straight away, and when I say that, he cries even more. He doesn't want me to put my life at risk to spare his, because he knows if I were to volunteer, one of us is sure to die. There's just no consoling him Only time will help. Time meaning after the reapings, and we are all safe in our home.

At seven o' clock, I feed my brother breakfast, and I wait for my parents to wake. They finally do so thirty minutes later, and they seem unsettled, as they should be. We all are, because this year, my brother and I are both eligible for the games. My mother murmurs something about the laundry, while my father's hand trembles, holding his coffee mug. My brother's face is stained with tears and sparkling red like rubies. I'm the only one that is keeping a nonchalant demeanor. Not for me, but for my brother.

My father finally says it's time to walk to the square, so I assist my mother with putting on her coat, as she seems to not be capable of doing the simplest tasks today. Her nerves are conspicuously getting to her. My brother, Hale, is ready, and he brings his favorite stuffed animal. An ordinary dog that my mother gave him when he was born. He brings it everywhere with him. This object of affection is one of those signs that he is not ready to grow up yet. He's still just a kid. A kid that has the possibility of an imminent death.

No. I block that thought out of my head, and I recall my promise to Hale. We arrive at the square after a few minutes to a large crowd of people, mostly adolescents. I take my place in the sixteen-year-old section, eyeing my brother carefully. I'm making sure that he's okay and won't pass out from the anxiety. It's happened every year since I became eligible for the games. I hear trumpets announce the beginning of the Reaping ceremony.

The mayor says his annual speech about the games and Panem's history. No one listens as always. Our escort, Berry Barbara, prances to the girl's reaping ball and selects a slip of paper. I pray for my brother's safety. My prayers are not properly answered. The response to the name was one of a yell then a crash.

My brother fainted after screaming my name moments after Berry Barbara announced the name of the girl, "Medea Azora." I walk to the stage, almost losing my equilibrium every now and then, however, always regaining balance with my brother's safety as my main concern. Will he be okay? Well of course he will. My parents are still there, and he has many friends, however, will he still have the will to live? No matter how much I try to convince myself of this mendacious theory of his supposed safety, it will never work. Concealed in a veil of attempted indifference, my face flickers for a second and allows a few tears to trickle. If I don't I survive, my brother won't either. If I live, my brother lives. If I die, my brother dies.


	10. District 5 Jason Fernim's Reaping

Jason Fernim

Falling off my bed, my hands collide with the hardwood floor awaiting me. I feel physical pain, but nothing extraordinary about it. Extraordinary. Hmm, extra-ordinary is more like it. I never find anything to be out of the ordinary. Everything is so dull. It's never black or white; it's just a bunch of shades of gray. Sure, these shades are different, but they're all still grey right? Exactly.

I stand up to find myself looking directly at my calendar. Another monotonous day today. Oh wait, what is this? It's Reaping day. I smile a bit thinking about the actual spice about to be put into my life. I believe I'm the only one in my district who actually enjoys watching the games. Sadistic. I know. I've heard it all before.

I hastily eat my breakfast, and then I walk to the square with my parents accompanying me. I meet up with my friends, Argos and Leia, at the square, and we banter a bit about ideas of the games. Leia is a pacifist and completely against the idea. Same with Argos. They always mock my stance on the subject, because I believe that Games are fun to watch and are an intelligent invention. I don't care though what they think. I don't care about what my parents think. I don't care about what anyone in this district thinks. I plain don't care.

When I was little, my parents tried their hardest to please me. Everyone wanted to be my friend because I was apparently mysterious and seemingly irreproachable, which just attracted their curiosity to pursue a social relationship. I was popular without the desire to be, but with the popularity came a few close friends, that I sincerely enjoy wasting my time with, such as Leia and Argos. They both live on the same street as me, Leia living two buildings down to the right, and Argos living three buildings to the left. We reside in the middle class section of the district. We always have enough food, education, shelter, clothing, and all the other necessities. We just can't luxuriate ourselves with trips to the Capitol and buying diamonds, but I don't care about those things. I don't even care about the necessities to be frank.

Berry Barbara, our district's escort, leaps up in keenness once the mayor has concluded his speech. I laugh at the stupid pink wig our escort is using. I mean, how does she find this fashionable? It's ridiculous. I actually let out a giggle of laughter. Just a giggle though. No one can know that I can actually express emotions of laughter. They can't know I can express emotion in general. Everyone thinks I'm apathetic, and truly, I am. Nothing interests me. Ever, except for now.

"Jason Fernim." Oh, I must've missed the girl's name while I was thinking. I don't recognize the name. I recognize my mother's shriek that follows the announcement of the name. Wait, if my mother shrieked, then that means…no, it can't be. Not me. Please let the name not be mine. "Jason Fernim," Berry Barbara repeats. This time I recognize the name. It's mine. I'm entering the games. For the first time in my life, I actually feel something. I feel despair not indifference. I feel emotions. Since I'm already experiencing firsts, I experience one more. I cry. Not regular crying, but waterworks out of pure fright. I can't hold it in. I let it all out. On camera. For everyone to see. I have been marked as a weakling.


	11. District 6 Cassandra Evans's Reaping

Cassandra Evans

My eyes following a bee's movement, I can't imagine anything better than what I am experiencing now. My boyfriend, Riley, and I are just cuddling in this beautiful patch of dainty, yellow daisies that create a mattress of bliss for us to lay down upon. The sun radiating its glow of warmth upon us, and my fingertips dancing on the blades of glass to my left. My boyfriend's lips beckon me forward as he gently kisses me. This day has been perfect. Perfect. A word I never thought I could use to describe something.

I almost fall asleep in his comforting arms when his friend comes over to tell us it's time to go the Reapings. I lift my drowsy head and look into his eyes. We kiss again. A quick little peck that tells him everything that I want to tell him and more. I just don't have the words to tell him. I've never been proficient with words. He's always the one who speaks at public events and so forth. He is so eloquent with his words. I find it to be a bit sexy actually at times.

I love him so much, Riley. I've just never gotten around to telling him. It's fine though. Our kisses say enough about our relationship. He doesn't really expect me to say those words, as I've always had a tendency to be more on the taciturn, mischievous side. I used to fabricate these intricate exploits, and I would even go as far as to steal from my neighbor's. That's actually how we met. I was stealing his mother's gilded mirror, when I noticed him looking straight at me with these curious eyes. My eyes lit up and I began to run out of the house, but he tackled me and began to laugh. He was on top of me, and I was on the floor, helpless and probably going to be executed for my transgressions. That's when he kissed me. We have been in love ever since.

We walk to the square, hand in hand and kissing continually. We arrive at the square, and await the conclusion of the mayor's speech. Our district escort, Rose Rhea, jumps up and goes to the girl's reaping ball once the mayor finishes. She puts her hand inside of the girl's reaping ball and selects a slip of paper. A very unlucky slip of paper to the girl whose name is on it. I'm the unlucky girl. "Cassandra Evans".

My hand immediately squeezes Riley's, and I kiss him. I whisper in his ear, "See you on the other side." He looks at me as if he's not sure what's going on. I break the news of my reaping to him as gently as I can by whispering in his ear once more, "You didn't hear? I was reaped." Once I say these words, I register the tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks, as I feel my own doing the same. The peacekeepers come to escort me, but they allow Riley to do so. I'm glad that I can spend my last few moments with him. I mean, how was I supposed to say good-bye being so incompetent with words?

We kiss once more at the foot of the stage. A peck really. I try my hardest to convey the meaning behind my part of the kiss. That I love him, and this is good-bye for now. I walk onto the stage, and I see Rose Rhea's hand enter the boy's reaping ball. She reads the name in a clear voice, "Riley Bivax". I immediately turn around and see my eyes meet Riley's. We're both going into the games. Together. Only one of us can come out. I'd rather die than leave Riley's side and kill him for the Capitol's entertainment. No. We're both going to die together. Peacefully. In a patch of daisies like the one this morning.


	12. District 6 Riley Bivax's Reaping

Riley Bivax

Lying down on a patch of daisies, my head lolling to my right, I lean in and kiss her on the nose. My girlfriend, Cassandra, is my soul mate, as cliché as that might sound. The idea of having a soul mate seemed repulsive to me, when I was a child, however, I wouldn't mind sharing the rest of my life with Cassandra. That's when I realized I love her. Have I ever told her this? Not directly of course, but I convey my love for her through our moments of mental bonding. When we take walks in the meadow together during break from school. When we teasingly feed each other strawberries and instead of receiving strawberries, we receive kisses. Truthfully, we never really finish the bowl of strawberries, even though we are allotted forty minutes for lunch and recess.

We lie there in the meadow for a while. An hour or so has passed before my friend, Jack, yells to us that it's time to go to the Reapings. We sit up and look into each other's eyes. We kiss once more. A quick peck is more like it, but this quick peck says everything. It says a variety of diverse supporting comments, ranging from "good luck" to I love you".

We stroll over to the square, drunk with love, kissing at five-second intervals, holding hands. The square is crowded with people, and faces of fright pollute my view. People are always quite sulky during the Reapings, and they have the right to be. Sorry, they should be. Who wants to be sent to their death?

As the typical speech made by our mayor is concluded, District 6's escort, Rose Rhea, prances over to the girl's reaping ball. She smiles and makes some vacuous comment about the weather that is met with silence. Her good-spirit doesn't waver, probably because our reaction didn't even register in her mind as one of indignation. Wow, it's amazing how the Capitol can breed a whole new level of idiocy. I wonder if the government officials in the Capitol are the same. If they are, then this country would be running on an idiocracy, a new form of government invented to describe the levels of stupidity that can be attained by a person.

Rose Rhea's hand submerges into the girl's reaping ball. I barely have to time to remember that Cassandra is still eligible for the Games, even though she's turning nineteen next week, when Cassandra's hand squeezes mine and breaks away. I feel her lips come in contact with my own. She whispers in my ear, "I'll see you on the other side." I give her a blank expression. She says, "You didn't hear? I was reaped."

Tears start to trickle down my cheeks, as do hers. I escort her to the stage, even though it's technically against the rules. The peacekeepers just allow it because they don't want to have to break us up. At the foot of the stage, we kiss. A quick peck, except this time, it's not transmitting warm messages. It says, "good-bye." Cassandra walks onto the stage, and I barely have time to turn around to begin walking back to my spot, when I hear the boy's name called out. "Riley Bivax".

I turn around and my eyes meet Cassandra's. There's a mutual agreement by the connection of our eyes. This agreement is a proclamation of our love for one another. There's no way in hell either of us is going to submit to the Capitol's invention of retribution. We'll die in each other's arms, lying on a patch of daisies as we did this morning. We'll die in love.


	13. District 7 Bianca Cyr's Reaping

**Sorry I haven't been able to upload/write anything in a while! I was on a cruise =P I hope you enjoy reading this even though the metaphor at the end is gross. I just really wanted to show that Bianca's exactly like a child. **

Bianca Cyr

Dashing around the playground, or what is called the playground but in reality is a forsaken lumber warehouse that has planks of wood branching off into many direction, and tires stacked into a pyramid, I tackle my friend, Clymentha, and I holler, "Got you!" Before any of my other friends have time to respond to my recent shout, I bolt towards the tire pyramid and scramble up to the top. From my vantage point, I peer into the crevices of the warehouse to see the whereabouts of my other friends, who seem to be pretty competent in hiding. I have to catch them if I want to win this game, which I want to do quite a bit.

I spot my friend, Tessa, concealed in a patch of grass, one of the only patches of grass that remain in this area actually. There's not much forestation, except well, for the area that the workers work in. There are massive trees there, but soon they'll all be cut down. There's only so many trees that we can cut without planting them back, but I digress.

I leap from my spot at the top of the pyramid and roll onto the floor. My back hurts a bit from the landing, but it's okay. I'm used to it from all those days of jumping off of trees in our hide-and-seek games. I love hide-and-seek. I meander over to the warehouse, adjacent to the patch of grass that conceals Tessa, or so she thinks. I fake that I'm scouring the warehouse's crevices, but I'm actually formulating a plan on how to catch her. I decide on an elaborate plan that may take a bit of time, however, in the end, I know I'll get her.

My plan is as follows. I chase her to the tire pyramid. There, she'll assume that she's safe when she doesn't see me. Of course, I'd be deceiving her presumption by climbing the tire pyramid to the top, as I always do. After about five minutes of her thinking that she's supposedly safe, I'll crawl into the chink at the top of the pyramid and quietly climb down just a bit. Then I'll tackle her as I did to Clymentha. Just as I begin to climb down, I realize I have to slightly modify my plans because three intruders entered the tire pyramid.

They're the remaining players in the game, Lizzie and Rachel, escorted by Clymentha. Apparently, they didn't see me at the top of the pyramid. Cool. I jump onto all four of the girls at the bottom of the pyramid, and I yell in my loudest voice, "I got you all!" We all begin to laugh, and after a while, my stomach region begins to hurt from the laughter. Rachel suggests that we go to the square now for the Reapings. Oh, I almost forgot about those.

We trudge over to the square, that's overcrowded with adolescents, and the atmosphere has changed from one of happiness to one of pessimism. Lizzie weeps and breaks down as if it's cathartic to do so. Rachel's demeanor radiates a vibe of fear and distress while Tessa tries to remain nonchalant, but fails to do so. Clymentha is trying to comfort Lizzie, but Clymentha's eyes flicker and reveal how distraught she truly is. I think I'm truly the only one who has remained calm, not saying that I actually enjoy watching the Games or agree with the idea of sending kids to their untimely deaths. No. I'm merely saying life is similar to a book. They both have a determined beginning and end; the only thing that we, humans, can write is a juicy middle. A life that has action, excitement, and surprises and ends with a tranquil ending. "Bianca Cyr," Rick Rye's voice booms.

Oh, I must've missed all the speeches. I feel tons of arms stretching out and embracing my chest area, tears streaming off their cheeks and landing on my paralyzed body, short breathes being taken in and released just as quickly. I feel peculiar. Truthfully, I'm not sure how to describe these feelings currently being felt. It's as if I'm being eaten by a death-bringing monster but, at the same time, being given a chance to force the monster to regurgitate me if I pull out all of his twenty-three of his teeth. Twenty-three. The number of tributes that are going to have to die for me to vomited back into my old life.


	14. Scores

Sorry I haven't posted ANYTHING for the past few months. Doing the tributes just really seems to bore me to death. So, as a solution, I'm going to just give the scores of the people already made and the future characters. Oh, and this must get at least 20 reviews in total (the story), or I give up with it because it's not very fun doing something that not many people read. Thanks

Scores:

District 1:

Helios Sol – 9

Selene Luna – 10

District 2:

Julius Erasac - 9

Tigris Peuhetsra - 7

District 3:

Zephyr Onyx – 8

Estellle Aurora - 5

District 4:

Ajax Rogers -11

Nadia Luv - 9

District 5

Jason Fernim - 4

Medea Azora - 6

District 6:

Riley Bivax - 3

Cassandra Evans - 4

District 7:

Nero Enasni - 3

Bianca Cyr - 2

District 8:

Felix Kyrp - 6

Eliza Brians - 2

District 9:

Carson Williams - 4

Fauna Delur - 5

District 10:

Raven Znon - 7

Marissa Tess - 1

District 11:

Brutus Tatemor - 4

Nyx Rhydian - 8

District 12:

Luke Etera - 4

Ariana Ora: - 1


End file.
